My mental state somehow translates people saying things like ‘respect my choice to call myself queer’ and 'people who are REALLY anti use of the term queer are often transphobic’ into 'if you don’t use queer for yourself, well, you’re a bigot. What, it doesn’t feel right to you for your own reasons? Oh, I’m sorry you’re so broken. :( ’

The things I’d do for the military and my country, I swear. They wanted me to go undercover at a gay resource center they were infiltrating in New York City, which had fallen into decadence and some suspicious activity. At first I was skeptical. How much trouble could a bunch of gays in New York possibly be causing? Was this really the best use of our taxpayer money as a resource? All I knew was they needed me undercover, staffing at one, in a few weeks, and that they expected me to have to pass as a gay man.

Of course they had a epigenetic syringe all prepped ahead of time for me, and before I knew I, I had an arm out for the needle with the medivac unit, who had me in their mobile. "What’s in that?“ I said, not resistant to them so much as feeling a little trepidation, though I knew it was too late to back out now. I was a little nervous, II had to admit, and not liking the sound of where this was likely to take me at all. I didn’t have a problem with homosexuals, but they really weren’t my things. Was that so wrong? It was about as far from my own personal interests as possible, I guess I’d say.

“It’s an injectable,” the doctor in the medivac unit told me, as if that wasn’t obvious enough. “We want you to pass as convincingly as possible. The effects are permanent, but we maybe be able to reverse it someday if the technology ever progresses. No guarantees that it will, but you’ll live a long, full life regardless.”

“What’s it do?” I said, my stomach sinking.

“There’s no real way to sugarcoat this, private. You’ll be a bona fide homosexual, maybe even with a lisp,” the doctor said, seeming to almost smirk at me with that remark. “Although who can say? Perhaps you’ll just pick up a lisp when you get in the swing of things. You’ll be as gay as they come, though, and you better learn to get used to it fast. Those hormones will own you, and it’ll only be a matter of time before they get the best of you and have you acting just like the rest of them. You never know just how gay you’ll be feeling, so you’d better learn to observe yourself pretty fast so that you don’t do anything to stupid. I’d suspect it won’t be long before you have your first sexual encounter. It usually isn’t too long with most guys. Do you think you’ll be more of a lovemaking in the bedroom sort of gay or a sleazy hookup in the bathroom stalls sort of gay?“ said the doctor, laughing like it was all hilarious to him. I could feel my fast turning read. I was angry but I knew I couldn’t be insubordinate. I couldn’t believe he was so comfortable with turning guys with their entire lives ahead of them into gay men, and now, because I’d agree to this, I’d be one of them.

Well, I didn’t like it, but I was resigned to it. This was my mission. I figured I probably should just roll up my sleeve and get this over with. I told the doctor, "Hey, ok, it is my mission and I agreed to this. As long as it doesn’t make me into one of those strange crossdressing ones, or the way some of them are always doing some made up gender that just doesn’t make any sense, as that really isn’t me.

"Actually, you’ll be an otter. Enjoy!” he said, finding my vein and starting to depress the syringe.

“The fuck’s an otter,” I wondered as he emptied the needle into me.

I hadn’t heard of that before, as I didn’t hang around with gay guys, that was for sure. I knew I’d be scoping it out on the internet as soon as I got home, so I grabbed my backpack and heading down the street.

I knew I’d be stationed in New York City for at least the next twenty four months, which was a very long assignment to me. On the walk back, I already started to feel it taking effect in my veins. I felt woozy and odd, almost as if I were going to break out in hives or something, My groin felt kind of itchy, which is what I first really noticed. The itching spread out onto my legs from there, up my belly and onto my chest until I was scratching like crazy, even at my face. I had to get out of this shirt, I thought, just feeling irrational, wondering if I was having an unexpected allergic reaction and if I should call them. I couldn’t believe they’d let me just stumble home like this, but I was a soldier and I was supposed to conduct myself like one, so they obviously thought I’d be able to handle it. I texted them about my symptoms and got a response back immediately that it was normal, asking me to go back to my residence.

It sure didn’t feel normal. When I unlocked the door and stripped off my shirt, I noticed all that itching was being caused by hair that was sprouting up all over me. Oh fuck, they really were doing this to me? What the hell was this about? I looked like some kind of goddamn animal, I thought. I’d always been a totally smooth guy, at least on my chest.

I soon was out of all my clothes, even my briefs, as my groin was so itchy, and I figured out fast that all that scratching had been from hair, or as I think of it now, fur, growing in, this big, wild pubic bush I’d grown all over my crotch. My pits had denser, darker hair in them now too, it seemed, and my legs were just coated with fuzz.

I still felt like myself at the time, as flushed and itchy and stressed as I was, and I thought hey, at least I’m still basically the same guy and it didn’t seem to alter my mind any. I didn’t seem to be attracted to guys or feel any gayer just then, which was a relief. How was this body really supposed to help me pass as gay anyhow, I wondered? I never even associated gay guys with hairy chests before, personally.

I went into the bathroom and threw the lights on, looking in the mirror. I flexed, lean and taut as my body still was, wondering if I was supposed to learn to talk like a gay too. "So how’s it feel to be ottered-up?“ I asked my reflection. No response, from my reflection, of course.

I went back into my living room. I wondered if they’d soon have me handing out condoms at parties and all that, or handing out therapeutic advice to gay couples, good grief, what an assignment this was! I could only wonder at that point. I needed some rest, I thought, and pulled on some loose athletic shorts, as I was sick of looking at my naked, hairy body. Damn, my legs hairy as hell now, I though as I got on the coach and saw them sticking out of my shorts, wild, dark brown fur making ringlets and fuzzing out everywhere. Gays who call themselves otters, I thought, how ridiculous. This was my life now? This was going to be a tough adjustment for me, I thought, but it felt nice to have total control of my thoughts, at least. I didn’t feel gay in the least.

I laid down on the pillow, wondering if should have just declined the assignment or even went AWOL. I had some regret then, for sure, but mostly I was just considering it. I knew it was too late, regardless. But maybe I should have asserted some more authority of my own for my own desires rather than agree to take on such a humiliating form of duty. I almost wanted to get myself a drink and drown myself in it for now, so I did, pouring myself a stiff Moscow Mule in the kitchen and downing it on the couch.

I nodded off after a while, right there on the living room couch, as I got tired and didn’t quite want to get up and move into the bedroom.

My dreams felt tortured and full of sweaty anxiety. At that point I was apparently even feeling stressed and delusional enough to have imagined a giant otter king or god of sorts to be swimming around and around in circles. Then I saw something in the distance, blurry, as dreams so often are. Was it my lieutenant? No, it was my fellow sergeant who I had my first FITREP with. The guy’s name was Johnny Ralston. He’s a good guy for sure. We fist bumped and I gave him a pat on the back. It was good to see somebody I knew. Johnny, I wish you could be here, I tried to say, as I wanted a friend to confide in, to help me through this.

I knew we were finished with drills for the day in this dream. It was already time to be changing back into our civilian clothes, so we hit the locker room. I was putting my stuff away for the showers and in my dream, I had the same smooth body I’ve always known. It almost felt like it was real. Yeah, this was my old body again, and maybe everything else was the dream, or the nightmare. I was feeling nothing but relief and hope over that potential. I didn’t want that assignment. I didn’t want to be gay. And I wasn’t gay. So that was a relief.

As for Johnny, he had always been kinda hairy compared to me, at least in the center of his chest, and his pits, and some on his legs. It was weird to be thinking about that again, probably because I was so stressed with this otter thing. I tried not to look at him as we hit the showers. I just wanted to make sure, I supposed, that I was still smooth. I was just comparing compared to another guy. No big deal, right? I truly hoped this wasn’t a dream, and that this was the real reality. I hoped that I could stay on case here, and that Johnny and I could just be buds, and that things could stay like this forever.

Still, though, I was getting that weird feeling that this was a dream, though, and yet I still fought it. I was determined to stay in it, even if it was a dream.

I looked over at Johnny, all as I was soaping up my smooth chest. He was getting wet with the shower on. The water really darkened up the little patch on his chest and on his forearms. Don’t look at that, I told myself. I was working on soaping up my groin. My chest was so nice just as it was, smooth and then, I kid you not, in this dream I go ahead and drop the soap by accident. I almost wanted to laugh.

Don’t think a gay thought, I told myself in the dream, which was weird. It was like I was trying to think of a joke. Gay guys always drop the soap. I looked over at John again then. Man, did he always have a furry butt? I couldn’t remember. Why was I so worried about whether or not he had a furry butt?

"Dude, I don’t need to see your furry ass,” I tried to say, to snap myself out of it and regain power over the dream. But then I felt it, the twinge of excitement, the rush of blood, and I saw my dick was inflating as I looked down.

No, I told myself, no. You’ll ruin it all. I tried to think of something else. But I was looking at his ass, and all looking at it made me want to do was look at him even more, closer up, and scope out the rest of his body, too. His ass looked like two perfect round pillows covered with this fuzz that stupidly just foofed out all over them. I took a step closer in the dream. The fur on his butt was really the darkest and thickest in the middle of his crack, right by his hole. If I could just get closer to it, I thought, maybe I could figure out these feelings, and even more exciting, maybe I could see what his ass really looked like, maybe he would let me see it close, and then my body would be close to his, and then maybe… well, maybe…

I tried to hold onto the dream. I was getting really excited over the thought of this guy’s hairy ass and that was so wrong. But it felt so right and so exciting. I could feel the excitement building in the dream. I just wanted to hold onto control of the dream long enough to get close to Johnny for a little bit. I didn’t know or care what Johnny would think. It was a dream, I thought, who cares what he thinks. Just get closer, get closer…

Then I started to wake up, cumming into my sheets as I was so exciting, waking myself up with a wet dream, to my thrill and disappointment, simultaneously. I had rarely felt such a rush. I had never cum to thoughts of a guy before. And yet I desperately I wanted to stay back in the dream, to see Johnny, to talk to him, to get close to him. I had to see Johnny’s ass closer, or even tell him how I was feeling, tell him that we had to… to what? To explore these strange gay feelings together? It was so weird and confusing, that morning, and there I was, this freshly made otter, hairy and twitching as I ejaculate all over my bed. I shot load after load through my underwear, shooting right through the thin fabric and getting the sheets very wet right as I soaked right them.

I looked down at myself, my sweaty hair chest and my soaked briefs, which surrounded now by dark brown pubes that spread out onto my hairy thighs. These would always be mine now, these ottered-up thighs. My sexy thighs, I thought then. What sexy thighs. I realised, only partly to my horror, and partly to my thrill, that I had turned queer overnight. Had I did something wrong in the dream? Could I have fought it?

if only I hadn’t looked at Johnny, or even hit the showers with him. Maybe that was the choice I made that I could have resisted. Why did I do something so stupid, I wondered that morning. This wouldn’t have happened to me if I hadn’t stupidly lusted after Johnny. I was confused, panting, and just dripping with sweat, not to mention soaked with cum.

“You stupid fucking otter,” I panted out loud then, talking to myself, affirming what I was, feeling, irrationally as it might have been, like this was all my own fault.

I was breathing heavily as my heart raced. I look down at my sweaty pecs, so covered with the fur of an otter, which I just had to rub my hand over.

I felt my dick twitch even then, even after it had cum as much I had. I was obviously a horny fucking otter. I was obviously liking what my eyes were taking in. God, that hair, something about it was almost magnetic to me that morning. It felt, dark, illicit, and just sexy. You know how it goes, guys.

“You fucking otter,” I said out loud again. I was feeling me beard now. My dick, still semi-hard, was smacking up against my hairy belly as I stripped my soaked briefs off. I grabbed my dick and it felt good just to have a paw on it. Even after having cum so much, a wave of erotic sensation passed through me. I stroked it gently for a few seconds until I thought about what had all just transpired, and forced myself to go shower off. I had to think this through.

I told myself I needed to clear my head, so I went to the mirror. But this time, when I turned on the light switched and gazed at my reflexion, my dick just got harder at the thought of being a furry, sexy otter. I flexed, loving the dark patch of hair beneath my arm that stuck out in its wiry way. It was much thicker than before they gave me that shot.

"You fucking furball,“ I said to my reflection and smiled. For some reason, talking to myself seemed hot as fuck that morning. I suppose it was because it felt like I was looking at a whole new me, which I suppose I was.

I continued, "What the fuck man? You’re gay now? You’re ok with being gay? You like being an otter?” I said as I rubbed my hands across the hair on my chest and felt the hair in my pits.

“You’re a motherfucking otter, you horny bastard. Look at this sexy fur,” I said, still running my hand across my chest and down the trail of fur on my belly. Then I was feeling up beard again. Even my arms looked good with this fur, I thought. Even my legs. I was so excited that I had fur all over me.

I showered up after that, even though it honestly was hard to pull myself away from the mirror. I was mostly hard the whole shower. I really didn’t even want to put clothes back on, I thought, so I didn’t after that, just wrapping myself up in a bright white towel. Was this what it was like to be gay?

My dick was hard enough that I felt like I could jack off again, the tip of it touching up against my belly hair.

I felt like I’d probably cum just from even hearing a man call me an otter for the first time. I wanted to text my commanding officer, to ask questions, to tell him how it was going, and yet I felt like I deserved the right to enjoy being a gay, sexy otter without them for a while.

I hadn’t gotten to see Johnny’s ass up close in my dream, but knowing that it was just a dream, that desire was quickly replaced by the desire to see other men up close, men in real life, gay men, men who actually would love for me to touch them.

I was gay now. I was in the right place for that, I thought, reminding myself that that was the whole point. Fuck, I’m gay, a sexy gay otter, and not only do I not hate it, I’m excited about it. I couldn’t believe my mind could shift that rapidly, literally overnight, as it were.

Man, I’m so glad they did this to me, I’m a hot otter now and I can’t wait til I can get in good enough with a guy to feel what gay sex is like. And what kind of guys was I into yet? I wasn’t even sure, but so excited to find out. Maybe another otter, I though, in love with the moniker and the identity, as I already was. We could have otter sex and oh god, how hot would that be?

I started stroking my dick again just thinking about that, getting on my sleek, hairy belly and the patch of fur growing wild across my pecs. I had to beat off. I didn’t even want to think of my assignment, or the details of why they did this to me. I realised my sex drive was higher than it had ever been, even aside from the having turned gay thing. Why did they need me like this? How was I supposed to infiltrate a pack of horny gay men if I was going to be this horny myself? Or maybe that was the secret to it all. Maybe the military thought I’d never be convincing without one of their animal identities and a sex drive that raged as sexily as theirs did. I wasn’t sure yet at that point. I just knew I was excited and that I’d be loving this new assignment.

I was jerking my cock faster and faster, and then I came for the second time that morning, saying out loud as I came and shot up all over my hairy belly, “Yeah, cum you motherfucking otter, milk that dick, fuck yeah, you sexy otter.” Almost instinctually, unable to resist the allure, I rubbed that cum in all over my belly fur and chest fur, fascinated by the way it stuck in the fur and matted it down. I couldn’t wait to do this with another sexy otter at my side.

How I’d be able to ever get any work done for the military with a body this sexy and a sex drive this horny, well, at that point I didn’t know and honestly didn’t care. If they wanted to pay me to hook up with every sexy otter in New York City, I was definitely more than ok with that.

And once I started the job, that’s pretty much what started happening.